


Blinding Heights

by sareliz



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Development, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sareliz/pseuds/sareliz
Summary: Toward the end of the first Iron Man movie. Tony Stark is a changed man - so what's going on in his head?Originally published on ff.net, beginning on July 16, 2008, in several parts, by yours truly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linusmir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linusmir/gifts).



"I just finally know what I have to do," he said. He meant it, too. And if he could just keep focused on that, everything would be okay.

Pepper had just left to get the shipping manifestos off the SI mainframe, wherever Obi had squirreled them away. Tony sighed when he thought about that – just how deep _**was**_ Obadiah? He'd thought of him for so long as a loving uncle that it still twisted his brain in half to think of what he'd done with the board, how he'd been selling weapons and illegally arming the enemy, _during wartime, no less_. How he'd insinuated that Tony's long held set of moral values were nothing more than childish illusions borne of naiveté.

That Stark Industries was going to be facing the wrong end of a congressional hearing was the least of his worries, and yet no small thing at all.

The day he'd arrived back, nearly three months ago, now, Tony had ordered the press conference that had started the ball rolling, announcing the reorganization of SI. Because he'd taken Obadiah's advice, that reorganization hadn't yet occurred, but it would. Tony knew himself to be a damn fine businessman, beyond his talents in engineering. He knew what he had to do, he only needed the time to do it. Tony was going to have to get on the ball, talk to each of the board members separately, sound them out, share with them the proof Pepper was retrieving, and so turn the tide of the board in his favor. He knew he could do it, it would just take a little time and a little finesse. Also, Tony needed a meeting with Rhodey, the FBI, possibly those secure homeland defense people that Agent Coulsen represented, and an appropriate member of Congress, and he needed that meeting first thing in the morning. He'd tell Pepper when she got back from the office with the proof.

Tony sighed, walking up stairs and sitting down heavily on the sofa. He didn't bother turning on the TV, he just sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Uncle Obi was going to be rotting in jail for a very, very long time. Possibly a great number of people at Stark Industries would be rotting with him. Hopefully, Tony wouldn't be one of them.

And yet, like it or not, he had been responsible for the deaths of so many people. Innocent and guilty, enemy and ally, indirectly, and of late, directly as well, Tony had killed people. Even after shrugging off the mantel of Merchant of Death, just a few days ago in Gulmira he'd killed – directly, between his missile targeting system, brute force and the flight stabilizers – he'd killed no fewer than ten men.

He sighed again, and scrubbed his hand over his face, as if he could so easily rub off the invisible film of blood. He felt a bit like Lady Macbeth, but had no desire to rant about it. He was just tired. And he felt somehow, inexplicably, defeated. He'd wanted to stop killing people indirectly, and he had. And somehow in the process he started killing them outright. In the moment it felt good, and right, defensible and All-American. And he would do it again, and again, and again – as many times as necessary to get his weapons off the market. But right now, just in this moment nothing felt right.

Tony sat for a moment more, melancholy and frighteningly aware of the power he held in his hands – and in his workshop – before that melancholy was broken by the ringing of his phone. It was Pepper, and hopefully she had some good news – she could have come and gone by now, so he hoped that she hadn't met any resistance.

It was just as he was in the act of answering the phone that all of his muscles froze and refused to respond – even for a brief moment, his eyes. It was an unnatural state of physical affairs that instantly kicked his body into shock, slowing his brain down to a crawl.

He could hear Obi's voice, but couldn't quite process what he was saying, and he wouldn't, not for several moments later. Then it was like his brain snapped back like a rubber band, only to have the horror of his impending death and Pepper's planned murder laid before him, concepts that sent him reeling once more.

And then Obi had done the last bit of damage he could in the life of Tony Stark, artlessly ripping the arc reactor from his chest, and walking away. God only knew how long he had before the shrapnel, no longer held in magnetic stasis, happily worked its way through his heart and he died of internal bleeding. Possibly, this was going to happen just slightly before the paralysis wore off.

* * *

"Tony! _**Tony!**_ "

He could hear her quite clearly but just at the moment he had no energy to move. His mouth was dry, and he had to croak once or twice before intelligible sound emerged, but eventually he was able to call out her name, softly. Tony flexed his right hand, bare as his head was, and managed to wrench himself up to a sitting position, which enabled him to watch Pepper half run through the obstacle course that had become the roof of the Arc Building. She picked her way around the hulking and somewhat charred remains of Obi's monstrosity, which Tony noted still had a steady blue glow coming from the center hull – a good sign, as he was currently running on borrowed time.

He watched as she landed by his side and for the moment, just basked in her concern. After assuring her that he was largely unharmed and requiring her to help him get to his feet – a feat, considering the fact that the suit was offline and in neutral, so he was moving its weight with his own tired and strained muscles – he sent her to go retrieve his crushed helmet from across the way. For reasons he wasn't prepared to examine just then, he didn't want her to have to watch what he was going to do, what he was about to steal back.

Tony made his painful way to the monstrosity and looked at his mentor encased within, lying there with no life in him. It struck Tony just in that moment as an awful way to die, though he didn't linger with the sentiment for long. He popped open the chassis with only a bare moment's hesitation and told hold of the reactor he'd crafted with his own hands, twisting and pulling. Shifting the reactor to his gauntleted fingers, he reached up with his bare right hand and popped the safety release at his shoulders. It took some time for the bolts to release – almost another twenty seconds, but the chest and back plates falling away took him by surprise nonetheless. With nothing to anchor them on, the armor on his right arm slipped of with just a little shake, and he nearly dropped the arc reactor when the armor on his left arm started to sag and shift. He sloughed off both, juggling the reactor between hands before he stabilized himself, completely armored from the waist down, and in nothing but black neoprene from the waist up. He twisted the old reactor out and quickly secured the one Obi had stolen.

"Mr. Stark," a vaguely familiar voice called him from behind. He twisted his bare torso around to see Agent Coulsen just slightly closer than Pepper was, several steps behind him.

"Oh, good. You're just in time to help get this stuff to the car. Pepper," he said, addressing her now, "You have a car here, right?"

He watched her nod mutely, looking a bit stricken while holding the red and gold helm that had been crushed as if it had been made of papier-mâché rather than a gold titanium alloy.

He beckoned her to him, and when she stopped a few feet away, he murmured, "You probably should know about this." The quiet nature of his voice called her closer and he focused her attention to the side of his hip he now had his fingers tracing. "Safety release here and on the other side," he whispered very softly, not necessarily wanting to share this moment with the government agent. "It takes a minute, and you can't put it back on the same way, but you know, just in case. Same thing was on my shoulders. Works even when the suit's offline. You open this lever, like so, then push this here. Now you go do the other side."

He shared a look with her before she moved to the other side, and in that look was everything. This was the person who was going to need to know how to get him out of his armor in an emergency. This was the person who was going to be around for the long haul. This was the person he was fond of, in more ways than one. This was the one he wanted, he'd finally and just now figured it out, and he was fairly certain he didn't remotely deserve her.

Tony swallowed back his momentary doubt as bits of the lower exoskeleton dropped away. He bent over to pry open the boots and was not entirely surprised when a heart beat later, she was prying open the other boot. He quietly instructed her to hold that boot tightly down and he put a hand on her back to steady himself as he stepped out of the piece of machinery, reflecting that the process was much smoother when Jarvis was in charge. When he was eventually free of the suit entirely, he stepped back and stretched.

He paused mid stretch and relaxed back to a normal posture when she put a tentative hand out to touch the arc reactor.

"So, you're okay, then," she said softly.

He nodded and took a good look at her. "And you?"

She swallowed harshly and forced a smile. "I'm great."

"Liar," he said, impulsively reaching out to pull her against him. Tony was gratified to find her easily taking the step and a half toward him even as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. Her body was tight with tension, but she held on.

"He wanted to kill me," she murmured against his shoulder.

"I know," Tony replied, more pain leaking into his voice than he thought strictly necessary.

"He wanted to kill you, too," she added without moving, and he could hear the tears shading her tone.

"I know." Tony took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the smell of Pepper. He was starting to relax and could feel her muscles softening as well.

"How did he get your arc reactor?" she asked, pulling back just enough so she could lift her face and look at him. Her tears were making slow tracks down her face, though her makeup refused to run.

Briefly, Tony considered lying, but decided that it would cost too much of him in the end. "He ripped it from my chest," he replied softly, feeling the tears gathering in his throat, the tears he didn't know how to cry.

As their eyes met, he knew that she was there with him, in that unnamable place of misery and compassion, that place of grief for the closest call than nearly took him. Then she held him tight again, no longer meeting his eye, but cleaved to him completely, her head beside his own.

"You're going to live to a ripe old age, Tony – you got me? None of this premature dying shit, okay?" Her voice was muffled once again by his shoulder, but her words drew a smile from him.

"From your lips to God's ears."

A throat was politely cleared before they both heard, "Mr. Stark? Miss Potts? It wouldn't be wise to linger any longer. There are news helicopters on their way, and the local police have already arrived."

Without fully letting go of Pepper, Tony turned slightly and indicated the rest of his armor. "We need to get this into Pepper's car."

"Of course, Mr. Stark. We're on it. Might I recommend holding a press conference tomorrow morning? Say, 10 A.M. at your office? We'll deal with this tonight and brief you on the situation in the morning – we'll have a statement prepared for you. Why don't you go home and get some rest? You, too, Miss Potts. We'll see you at 9:30."

He'd just been handled, but he couldn't care less. With his hand at her back, he walked across the roof next to Pepper, following the agent down the utility stair, through the wreckage of the building. Reaching Pepper's Audi, he took a moment to check the trunk, and there was the Mark IV in all its disassembled glory. An agent shut the trunk, but Tony was already on to the next thing.

"Are you okay to drive?" he murmured to Pepper, having walked up to her as she waited, watching him from the driver's side. She nodded, but he pressed the issue. "Are you sure?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine. Get in," she replied, nodding to the passenger seat.

Tony meekly did as he was told, largely ignoring the agents who were trying to hurry them up.

For the most part of the trip back to the house he sat back, trying to relax, but his system was still on full throttle, probably with more adrenaline than was healthy. When they finally arrived after a silent drive to the front of the house, he murmured for her to pull into the garage. For the first time, just before she cut the engine, he noticed the time. It was late, but not scandalously so. He looked over to her and asked it anyway.

"Why don't you take the guest suite tonight?"

The few times before he'd had to push and wheedle before she would even consider it as a feasible possibility. Tonight they shared a long look before she acquiesced with no further comment.

They walked upstairs in silence, leaving the Mark IV in the trunk of the car for now. Jarvis was quiet and Tony was grateful. He wasn't sure how much sleep he was going to get tonight, but he certainly wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Don't forget; the drycleaner delivers with a 90 minute turn around," he said in lieu of goodnight.

He watched quirky smile bloom across her features. "I haven't forgotten, though maybe they've forgotten about you."

He had nothing to say that wouldn't strike too close to home. He wanted to point out that the only drycleaning he was planning on having delivered from now on was his own, and possibly hers, but he found himself unable to tease. He wasn't entirely certain the odds were in his favor when it came to being in a responsible and balanced relationship. He wasn't sure he wanted to test his theories tonight on the one woman with whom he didn't care to fuck it up. So he left her to it, retreating to his bedroom, a hot shower and a soft bed, there to wait for sleep to claim him.

* * *

He'd been much more himself in the morning, less melancholy, more zippy, and flirting with Pepper had seemed like the best idea in the world. In fact, he engaged in it, on and off, from their shared breakfast in his kitchen all the way through to the moments just before the press conference at the office. She was slightly more receptive than normal, which Tony found incredibly encouraging. His head was filled with light and energy and visions of his new moniker, 'Iron Man' – erroneous, but catchy – when he stepped before the press corps, stuck his foot in his mouth, and decided to spit out the truth, just because he could.


	2. The Storm Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months after the first movie, and Tony Stark is working on living his changed life.

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!"

The reporters mobbed the Bentley – mostly paparazzi, as he didn't recognize most of the faces, but Happy made a hole and he walked through it without looking back. But he could still hear.

"Mr. Stark, is it true that…" The clicking of camera shutters, and other shouts to get his attention, to confirm or deny the suit of the city, the congressional investigations, two dozen false Iron Man sightings, and his latest bed partner. He ignored them all.

"Mr. Stark is not prepared to make a statement at this time. The press will be notified the next time Mr. Stark is prepared to make a statement. Thank you."

Walking through the door, what Tony Stark didn't hear was the click-clack of stilettos on concrete getting progressively louder, which would have alerted him to the fact that Pepper had successfully run the gauntlet. Instead he guessed that the crowd had encompassed her completely, because the shouts and camera shutters were all he could hear.

"Miss Potts! Is it true that you've been on-again off-again with Tony Stark for the last five years?"

"Miss Potts! How long have you known about Mr. Stark's mental instability?"

"Miss Potts! Is it true that he's building a suit of Iron Man armor for you? Will you be the next Iron Maiden?"

"Miss Potts! Is it true that you've raised three of Mr. Stark's illegitimate children for him?"

"Go get her," he murmured to Hogan, still facing the main welcome desk in his office building. He waved over a security guard at the same time.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"Ask them politely to leave. Then use force. Uninvited reporters and photographers are now banned from all SI property in the city, effective immediately, until further notice."

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

Three security guards joined the first and headed out the door, through which, even closed, he could hear the press.

Arms crossed, facing away from the glass doors of the entrance, Tony Stark took a deep breath and waited. And he listened. He heard the soft woosh of the door being opened again, heard the guards sternly ordering the persistent ones that they were trespassing and would be forcibly removed if they did not vacate immediately. He heard the soft tread of Hogan, and the distinctive clip of Pepper.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Stark," came her cool tones as she walked toward him, and they started across the vast open hall, leaving Hogan to his own devices.

"Least I could do for the woman who raised my three illegitimate children."

"Yes, Tony, Jr. and his sisters have missed you, so. You never call, you never visit," she deadpanned as they walked to the elevators.

He raised an eyebrow. "I missed Ginny and Pepper's birthday again, didn't I?"

"Don't you usually?" she asked wryly.

"I'll make it up to them."

"I don't see how. Twin 11 year old girls don't forget this sort of thing."

"How could you have raised my 11 year olds if you've only been working for me for the last nine years? We need to work on this story."

"Why would you name your imaginary twin daughters after me?" she countered, ignoring her lack of mathematical consistency.

"We named our first after me. I thought we could name the next two after you, the genders being what they were."

It was just as well that the elevator was empty. She turned her head slowly to meet his gaze for the first time since their banter began.

"We? Our? I wasn't aware that I was the mother of said imaginary illegitimate children of yours."

A slow smile crept up as he took in the fact that her amused detachment was becoming less and less detached.

"Worried you won't make a good mom? I bet you will. I hear no complains from Junior, for instance."

"That's because Junior doesn't exist. This is how malicious rumor starts, you know - inane conversations like this."

"Malicious? You, the mother of my children, imaginary or otherwise – malicious? You know, malicious rhymes with delicious. I like delicious better. Let's call it a delicious rumor instead."

"Tony, be serious," she said as they walked toward his office.

"Which reminds me. What am I doing Saturday?"

She checked her blackberry and responded, dropping her purse on the top of her desk and following him into his office, letting the doors swing shut behind them. "Your schedule is free, unless you decide to stay in Washington. Then you'll be free, but in D.C."

"Great," he said, walking over to the window and looking out, crossing his arms once more. "What are you doing Saturday?"

There was the pause of a heartbeat before she answered. "Are you asking if I have plans?"

Here goes nothing: the end of flirting, the beginning of honesty. "Not really. I'm asking if you'd like to have plans with me."

"What sort of plans did you have in mind?" she asked, her voice going a bit lower. He wondered if she knew she did that, sometimes.

Still, Tony's heart skipped a beat at her words. Still facing away from her, he turned his head and saw her stance mirror his own, arms crossed defensively, features cautiously closed. He returned his gaze back to the morning horizon through the glass.

"I'm thinking of sending the yacht down to Costa Rica. Thought we could go down there, after the meetings on Friday." He could hear her step, muted through the carpeting. He listened to the silence of her step until she was level with him at the windows. Tony dropped his arms and clasped his hands behind his back.

"Hm. Well, I did have plans, as a matter of fact," she responded softly, her voice quiet and low.

"You know I hate it when you have plans," he murmured to the window, as if to her.

"Yes, I know. Sometimes I do it anyway. Mostly you never know."

Tony swallowed down that little piece of information and decided to consider it later, perhaps, depending on how badly this present conversation went.

"These plans… Are they date-type plans? Boyfriend-plans?"

"Who's asking?" she retorted with a tone of mild incredulity. "Mr. Stark, Iron Man, or Tony?"

He cocked his head to the side and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Who do you want to be asking?"

She turned and leaned a shoulder against the glass, her arms still folded across her chest, blackberry in hand. "Well, from Mr. Stark it would be sexual harassment, and it would be none of Iron Man's business. That leaves Tony."

"And who is Tony?" he asked, turning as well, and facing her for the first time in their conversation, and standing less than an arm's length away.

"A friend, of sorts. A little misguided, sometimes. He's got some issues, but he's not a bad guy. Neither is he what my mother would term, "a nice young man", but he's not bad."

Tony took a half step toward her and quirked his eyebrow again. "Is he boyfriend material?"

Pepper remained where she was, arms crossed and leaning one shoulder against the expansive windows behind his desk. "Based on previous experience?" she asked. "No."

"But what about now?"

"Now? Maybe. _Maybe."_

"Okay. Tony's asking," he said, quirking his lips in a little maybe-grin.

"Asking what?"

"Asking if your Saturday plans were date or boyfriend related."

"Possibly. It's hard to tell."

He gave her a look. She was flirting, and that was encouraging. She was also prevaricating, and that was less encouraging. "It's not hard to tell if someone asks you out on a date, Pepper."

"Well, a sort of friend asked me to accompany him on his yacht in Costa Rica. Many things are implied but nothing is explicit. And I haven't decided whether to go or not, yet."

"I meant the other plans."

"Those plans?" she asked, putting on her best passive press corps face. "No, I have no comment on those plans."

"But what if they are date-related? I can't imagine you stringing two men along at the same time. Not very nice of you, Pepper."

"And now you're assuming quite a lot: two men, stringing them along, and my own capacity for niceness. I'm not nice. I'm not even always polite. Mostly, I am efficient, and that always seems to work in my favor."

"Seriously, Pepper." Did he just say that? He didn't just say that. Surely he only thought it.

"Seriously, Tony." Funny, she didn't look too serious.

"Are you already involved with someone?"

 _You're all I have, too_ , she had said. But maybe she'd been exaggerating… True, not much time had passed since then, only a month or so, but still. She was intelligent, engaging, and gorgeous – every day that passed was another day she could meet someone else. Enough days had passed. Hell, he could pick up a woman with a look and a smile, fifteen seconds or less. Hogan had timed him, once. It would probably take any man longer with Pepper, but certainly a month was enough time.

"Do I have a snowball's chance in hell, here?" he added.

"Those are two very different questions." Her arms were still crossed, but he had now stepped right up to her, hands still clasped behind his back. Thanks to her four inch heels, they were exactly the same height.

"And I'd love to have both of them answered," he replied, his voice close to a rasping whisper. Six inches of air stood between them, thickly.

"No, and we'll see."

He smiled broadly and she shifted so she was leaning back fully against the glass. Tony shifted, too. His right arm came up, elbow against the glass by her head and he, too, leaned toward the glass, and of course, Pepper. In fact, he kept leaning in until his lips were by her ear. Tony put his other hand in his pocket.

"So, got any plans for Saturday?" he asked quietly, the rush of air from his words brushing past her ear.

"It seems I'll be off the coast of Costa Rica," she said in that voice that low and delicious.

Which is what he blamed his next actions on, in retrospect: that low, delicious voice she sometimes used. Tony planted the tiniest of kisses just below her ear, at the edge of her jawline. It was really less of a kiss and more of a brush of lips, the same sort of brushing of lips that he did intermittently down her jaw, over her chin, and to the corner of her lips. Her breathing had increased, he noticed. He brushed his lips over hers ever so briefly before tracing his path back to her ear.

"Don't forget your bikini. It would be a shame if you had to tan in the nude."

"I don't tan, Tony, I burn."

He pulled back a bit and smirked at her. "You can tan by moonlight. It's great. You'll see."

She narrowed her eyes and before he knew it, her arms weren't crossed in front of her chest anymore. The hand that wasn't holding the blackberry was at the back of his neck, securing him and pulling herself away from the window. "Don't assume too much, Mr. Stark," she said, just before she kissed him with closed lips, firmly, but briefly.

"Mr. Stark?" he asked when she had ended the kiss and leaned against the window once more. He licked his lips and enjoyed the taste of her. "When did he come in? I thought you were talking with Tony."

"Well, now I'm talking with all three of you: don't assume too much. You're all I've got, and I'm not throwing that away just so I can fall in bed with you this weekend."

Tony noticed that her hand was still at the back of his neck. He really was trying not to assume too much, but he was having a difficult time, his track record being what it was.

"We don't have to use a bed. There are always deck chairs. And who said it was limited to this weekend?"

"You heard me, Tony. I'm not having sex with you."

He couldn't keep the horrified look off of his face. "Ever?"

"Not as a prelude, anyway," she replied, rolling her eyes and smiling at his moment of panic.

"Okay," he said, relief flooding his system. He leaned in and kissed her, but this time it was less brief, and significantly less vanilla. Her tongue, he found, tasted wonderfully good. Eventually the kiss ended, but not before he was completely satisfied with it.

"Tony, what are we doing?"

Somehow his hand had left his pocket and lay on her hip. Her blackberry was being pressed into his chest. His other arm was still bracing himself on the window, but it had shifted, and that hand managed to cradle her head at the same time. It was a cozy position, and Tony thought it was rather obvious what they were getting up to in his office.

"In English, we call this kissing."

"That's not what I mean," she said, and Tony was lulled the pleasant sensation of her short fingernails scratching at the base of his skull. "I don't want a fling with you, Tony. It would break my heart, and you'd lose a damn fine assistant. You know I hate job hunting."

"Well, Pepper, you're in luck," he said, and as he spoke, his thumb gently caressed her hip. "I don't want a fling, either, and I don't want a new assistant. What are we doing? I have no idea. I've never actually done this before."

"Tony, you've had hundreds of—"

"This. I've never done _this_ before. And make no mistake, I have no idea what I'm doing. Feel free to give direction. Sex, yes, I'm an expert. Pick up lines I've got aplenty. I can be charming. Hell, I'm _Prince_ Charming. But _this?_ Whatever _this_ is, I've never been here before."

"You mean we're in virgin territory for you?" she asked with an eyebrow raised and an amused tone of voice.

"Completely."

"Interesting."

At that response, he gave in and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He nuzzled down until he was inside of her collar where he could lick and nip and suck to his heart's content. When he felt her shudder and gasp, he paused to ask, "How interesting?" before continuing on his gentle but persistent ministrations, which, yes, would probably leave tell tale marks.

"Very interesting," she managed to say without much change to her voice.

"Interesting enough for me to have my way with you on my desk?" he murmured into her neck.

"No."

At that he surfaced, licked his lips, and pronounced his opinion on the matter: "Shame."

"Hardly," she said, looking him in the eye. "You wanted direction, here it is. Don't expect sex on the first date."

"Could Costa Rica count as the first three?" he asked, full of hope.

"No. And I'm not counting, but neither will I fall into bed with you on the first opportunity. As friends go, Tony, you're really only _sort of_ a friend. You're mostly my boss. And I know a lot about you, but how much do you know about me? Lines are crossed pretty often between us, but if we're going to date, I need to spend time with you where it's just you and me, and it's got nothing to do with Stark Industries and the fact that I'm your personal assistant. Does that make sense?"

He sighed, because it made more sense than he was really wanting to admit. He looked up to the top of the window, where it met the ceiling, and addressed his comments to that point of the wall. "I can see that masturbation will continue to be a part of my evenings for the foreseeable future."

Pepper sighed. "I didn't say I wouldn't _ever_ have sex with you, Tony."

"Good," he said, looking back down and into her eyes. "Because that would be tragic. Whenever it is we get around to it, sex between you and I, Pepper Potts, is going to be mind-blowingly good. It's going to be scream yourself hoarse, die a little death, heaven on earth good. The angels will weep, Pepper, for the sheer beauty of witnessing the two of us together."

"Good," she commented nonchalantly, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek before walking across the room. "It's been ages since I had a decent orgasm," she said, just before she opened the door and left.


	3. The Top Ten Things She'd Never Tell Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation continues on Saturday, in Costa Rica...

It wasn't that she found him handsome, or even sexy. That was sort of a given upon first inspection with him, and it either wore off when you observed some of the rest of his behavior, or it melted into the background hum of life – so went the common line of thought of Pepper's lunch group, anyway. She agreed. This issue wasn't that she found him handsome, or even sexy, exactly, but that in the last nine years of working as his assistant, she'd had as many moments of serious sexual fantasy about him. That was the issue.

It was embarrassing, really, and so it ranked in the top ten things she'd never tell him – not necessarily because of their professional relationship, though that was a factor, but really because she'd never hear the end of it. She had, in fact, no faith at all that Tony was mature enough to deal with the information gracefully.

She never indulged when she was around him, or on company time – that would just be silly and irresponsible, two things she was not. And she didn't indulge often – it really was a once a year occurrence, and for some reason it always seemed to happen in August. She wasn't sure why.

Once she was actually having an intimate moment with her then boyfriend. She didn't out and out _moan_ Tony's name, she was nowhere near as lost as all that. However, in those drawn out moments, shoved against the wall of her then boyfriend's ultra modern apartment, there was a part of her that felt there ought to be a waterfall off to her right, and that he seemed too tall, with too much facial hair and not enough smirk and sass. And there was a very brief moment when she heard her internal monologue musing on the wager that Tony's tongue would probably be more talented, too. It took her three weeks to realize that she'd been making the comparison during the entire episode. That boyfriend didn't last long.

Other moments were a little more vivid, for all that they occurred when she was alone. It was definitely one of the top ten things she'd never tell him.

"But Pepper," he whined, breaking her from her musings. He was probably trying to sound reasonable and convincing, but he wasn't quite making it. "You're the one who pointed out I don't know enough about you. Here I am, trying to find out, and you thwart my good intentions."

Pepper raised an eyebrow and looked over at him from her deck chair. "Yes, you do need to know more about me. It's part of the mandatory 'getting to know your significant other' process. But that doesn't mean I'm going to generate a top ten list of the things I'd never want you to find out about, and then _tell you about them._ Try again, Tony."

As Pepper gave a sidelong glare to her erstwhile host sitting one deck chair over with a Hawaiian shirt half unbuttoned and gaping over his chest, Pepper had to admit to herself that despite her musings of just half a moment ago, it wasn't that she _didn't_ find him attractive, either. In fact, she found him incredibly attractive, but things had changed since her last conversation with the girls at lunch. They were after all, on their first date, completely alone on his yacht (not counting the crew of seven, including a chef that produced orgasmic food), somewhere off Costa Rica. It was acceptable and appropriate for Pepper to find Tony ravishing, and so now she freely admitted the fact to herself.

But only to herself.

"Okay. What's your favorite color?"

"Guess," she shot back at him.

He gave her an assessing look. "Blue."

"Most days. Some days it's green. Next?"

"Where's the place you most want to go in the world, but have never been?"

"New Zealand."

"Aren't they nuclear free?" he asked, and she wondered if his calculating look had anything at all to do with the Pacific island's national politics, or something else. She guessed that it was something else.

"Hmm," she murmured in the affirmative.

"Strange little island country. Are your parents still alive?"

Pepper smiled with thoughts of home and proceeded to fill Tony in about her family, what it was like growing up in New England, her two nephews, her brief modeling career, and her strange and fascinating love of accounting.

"I just… I love numbers. They either work, or they don't. Their fast, solid, reliable, and dependable."

"Like engineering," Tony commented.

"Well, like your engineering. Not everyone's works out so well, or don't you read the trade magazines that you get delivered?"

He smiled but said nothing. After a few moments, he reached out and trailed his fingertips down her lightly clad arm to take up her hand and simply hold it in his. When she looked over at him there was something inscrutable in his eyes.

"What?" she asked, gently.

He shook his head and remained silent, still smiling slightly, still gazing at her intently.

"What?" she asked again, more intently this time, her smile growing.

"This moment, Pepper, this moment right here, I wouldn't trade it for anything."

She raised an eyebrow and looked skeptical. "Not even sex?"

His smile got slightly wry. "Certainly not sex with anyone else, but maybe not even sex with you. Not just in _this_ moment _right now_."

She leaned over, an impish smile on her face as she whispered, "I promise not to tell anyone."

He leaned over as well, meeting her half way, but before their lips met, he whispered against them, "You can tell anyone you like. Shout it from the rooftops, even. 'Tony Stark is in love.'"

And at her sharp intake of breath, he kissed her, and that was good, too.

* * *

"You're the one who is supposed to know me backwards and forwards. You tell me," he said, shooting her question back at her.

Pepper had been foolish enough to try to turn the tables on him. Normally she was quite adept at it, but not this evening. In the spirit of mutuality over an amazing dish of salmon out under the stars and far enough out to sea to avoid the lights of the cities, she had asked Tony what where the top ten things _he'd_ never want _her_ to know.

And now she had to come up with the list herself.

"Okay. Are they things I don't already know, or do they include things about which I know, but you wish I didn't?"

"That would be a cop out. Stuff you think I don't know that you know, at least."

"So I can already know, but you can't know that I know? But what about the things I was saving up for future blackmail opportunities?"

"Air 'em. Air 'em now. And feel free to make outrageous ransom demands. That might be fun. I promise not to bring in Legal."

She just smiled at him before taking a bite of salmon and staring out into the water. What on earth would be on the list? She took a deep breath after finishing with her mouthful and started to speak, still looking out into the night.

"Well, I'm sure there's an embarrassing moment or two that happened while you were a teenager at MIT. Do I have to come up with details? I don't think I should have to do that. Maybe the first time you had sex? Certainly the actual count of people with whom you've had sex. I wonder if all went well between you and your parents, so there might be number four in there, somewhere. I'm sure there are at least two things I don't know about that happened when you got so drunk all good sense left you, so that's six. Then we get to the ones you don't know that I know about. Number seven might be that you programmed Jarvis to be capable of phone sex, but upon testing, didn't find him sexy enough. Number eight might be that upon finding this out, you brought a woman home and tested it out on her – she either found him sexy enough, or the fact that you had your head between her legs might have had something to do with it. Number nine is that upon occasion you pick up redheads in stiletto heels and power suits who never understand why you decide to nick-name them 'pepper' for the evening. Number ten encompasses the exact details of what happened to you in Afghanistan – which, actually, I don't know, though perhaps I could make an educated guess."

Pepper finally looked over to him and met his gaze. He seemed slightly dumbfounded.

"Tony? You still with me?"

"Okay. So you _do_ know me backwards and forwards. You knew about the redheads?"

Pepper raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly. "Mm-hmm."

"You knew about the phone sex program?" he asked, his voice rising slightly.

"Mm-hmm."

" _How?"_

"I'm sorry, I can't reveal my sources."

"Well, sometime I'll tell you about Afghanistan. But not now," he added with a quick smile.

"Tell me about MIT instead," she said with a soft smile.

He looked back at her and smirked. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," he quoted before he began his story.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, tell me about it! 
> 
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